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kinkfestTitle: And He Was Beautiful
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darklove_zorg
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Word count: 1115
Summary: A article in the newspaper is quite disturbing to Watson - old friends, never forgotten, brought to mind.
A/N: March 8 - Crossover: Sherlock Holmes/Sweeney Todd, Watson/Sweeney: angst, post-death musing - He couldn't reconcile what Ben had become with the boy he'd known as a child.
It came as quite a shock to me, I can't deny. The morning had begun as usual, Holmes reading the morning post, perusing the daily paper, to - as he put it - find anything fit to read, should such a rare event occur. Not a big fan of journalists, is Holmes. I have to agree with him, up to a point. There are also some very fine wielders of the quill, such as that Kipling fellow. Good chap, well written. Reminds me of my happy days in India, days spent in the service of Her Majesty. Long gone now, long gone.
It was Holmes' habit to scan the front page last, being of the opinion that the most scurrilous work was to be found there, a theory I am not really sure holds water, but the man is undoubtedly set in his ways, so what can I do? I was enjoying a leisurely breakfast - Mrs. Hudson had done herself splendid, and I was very contentedly tucking into my curried eggs when the expression on my friend's face drew my attention.
"Eh, is something up?" I asked, fork poised in mid-air, as I wondered if perhaps we were needed to solve a murder of some sorts. Although it would be nice if Lestrade would simply ring for us, instead of sending us messages through the media. Hates being made to look foolish, he does. And it doesn't hurt that Holmes manages to do that on a regular basis. Make Lestrade look foolish, that is. Not hard to do, you know. Not hard at all.
"Didn't you once tell me you had a close friend at one time by name of Benjamin Barker?" he queried me almost briskly, eyes riveted upon the front page.
"Ben Barker?" I repeated, dropping the fork completely now, caught up in that name, a name I'd not heard in many a year. Oh yes, I knew Benjamin Barker. Very well. As well as, perhaps better than, I knew my dear Sherlock Holmes. And that is saying quite a bit.
Without a further word, he thrust the paper toward me, before gently dabbing his napkin against his lips. "I'll be in the library if you need me," he said, withdrawing discreetly. I knew then that whatever the periodical contained, it would not be good, and with trepidation, I held it up and out - damn these eyes, makes it hard to read even a simple newspaper at times without pushing it farther and farther away from me. And then I began to read, a horrible tale, of a barber by the name of Sweeney Todd who was responsible for killing a number of people in his London barber shop, along with his accomplice, a woman by the name of Lovett.
Lovett, Lovett... the name seemed familiar, as I racked my brain, forcing it back into the past. Ah yes, I remembered her now. Worst meat pies in London. Horribly disgusting things. I'd heard something recently about her shop doing better, but I hadn't had the bad taste to find out - and now I was glad I hadn't. From what I was reading, well.... it's a horrible thought, I can barely express it. Suffice it to say that the victims of Mr. Sweeney Todd were disposed of, but not through any sort of burial. How utterly revolting.
But I didn't understand what that had to do with my old friend, Ben. I kept reading obediently, and when the truth was laid bare before my eyes, I confess that those same eyes teared up, and my stomach clenched up. I pushed my plate away. Even the curried eggs could not tempt me, now, and I began to remember the boy that once I knew. Benjamin Barker. My Benjamin. Who would never hurt a fly.
We were both young lads, in our mid teens, when we met. He was a beautiful boy then, the photograph that I found in the paper - well, he changed he did, he really changed. He was very beautiful. And how I loved him.
There, I said it. Not ashamed of it, either. Nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all. We loved one another - purely, as men have done from time immemorial. I knew that he loved Lucy too, silly little chit that she was. But she was a pretty chit, and I couldn't fault him for his feelings. And it never affected us in any way. It was often the three of us, jaunting about London, almost like three musketeers. But often it was just me and Ben. And back then, I'm here to tell you, Benjamin Barker would never hurt a fly.
I didn't care what they said he did. It must be a mistake. A horrible mistake. Or else something dreadful happened to him. That was it, undoubtedly. My eyes returned to the article which I had painfully abandoned, and I continued to read, widening my understanding of the situation. Ah, that was it. He lost his wife and his daughter when he was transported to Australia. Humph, sounded like so much mullarkey to me. I'm sure there was some misunderstanding, if not downright chicanery on someone's part. I repeat - my Ben would never hurt a fly.
I remembered how happy he was when he and Lucy were wed. He opened his own shop - that man was a magician with a razor! He gave the closest shaves I've ever received. No one before or since him could come close to possessing the skills of Benjamin Barker. That he could fall so low as to use them to bring harm to anyone... well, it boggles my mind entirely.
When I left for India, we still kept in touch. He wrote to me when Lucy got pregnant, and when Joanna was born. Come to think of it, though, I do remember that he was troubled over something. He said there was a judge who had been harrassing him, through his beadle, bothering Lucy. Oh my word, I think that was the same judge that he was accused of murdering. Yes, that was him. Judge Turpin. That explained much.
My Ben was a gentle man. Only someone as heinous as Turpin could cause him to commit such a foul crime. He wrote to me in India, said he loved me, and when I returned, we would be together again. Oh, cruel fate, how sharp the wound, how bitter the taste.
I didn't care what anyone said - Benjamin Barker was a gentle man - and he was beautiful. I threw down the paper, and made my way to the library, where Holmes waited. I knew he'd be there for me, he'd make things better. He always did.
Author:
darklove_zorgRating: R
Warnings: none
Word count: 1115
Summary: A article in the newspaper is quite disturbing to Watson - old friends, never forgotten, brought to mind.
A/N: March 8 - Crossover: Sherlock Holmes/Sweeney Todd, Watson/Sweeney: angst, post-death musing - He couldn't reconcile what Ben had become with the boy he'd known as a child.
It came as quite a shock to me, I can't deny. The morning had begun as usual, Holmes reading the morning post, perusing the daily paper, to - as he put it - find anything fit to read, should such a rare event occur. Not a big fan of journalists, is Holmes. I have to agree with him, up to a point. There are also some very fine wielders of the quill, such as that Kipling fellow. Good chap, well written. Reminds me of my happy days in India, days spent in the service of Her Majesty. Long gone now, long gone.
It was Holmes' habit to scan the front page last, being of the opinion that the most scurrilous work was to be found there, a theory I am not really sure holds water, but the man is undoubtedly set in his ways, so what can I do? I was enjoying a leisurely breakfast - Mrs. Hudson had done herself splendid, and I was very contentedly tucking into my curried eggs when the expression on my friend's face drew my attention.
"Eh, is something up?" I asked, fork poised in mid-air, as I wondered if perhaps we were needed to solve a murder of some sorts. Although it would be nice if Lestrade would simply ring for us, instead of sending us messages through the media. Hates being made to look foolish, he does. And it doesn't hurt that Holmes manages to do that on a regular basis. Make Lestrade look foolish, that is. Not hard to do, you know. Not hard at all.
"Didn't you once tell me you had a close friend at one time by name of Benjamin Barker?" he queried me almost briskly, eyes riveted upon the front page.
"Ben Barker?" I repeated, dropping the fork completely now, caught up in that name, a name I'd not heard in many a year. Oh yes, I knew Benjamin Barker. Very well. As well as, perhaps better than, I knew my dear Sherlock Holmes. And that is saying quite a bit.
Without a further word, he thrust the paper toward me, before gently dabbing his napkin against his lips. "I'll be in the library if you need me," he said, withdrawing discreetly. I knew then that whatever the periodical contained, it would not be good, and with trepidation, I held it up and out - damn these eyes, makes it hard to read even a simple newspaper at times without pushing it farther and farther away from me. And then I began to read, a horrible tale, of a barber by the name of Sweeney Todd who was responsible for killing a number of people in his London barber shop, along with his accomplice, a woman by the name of Lovett.
Lovett, Lovett... the name seemed familiar, as I racked my brain, forcing it back into the past. Ah yes, I remembered her now. Worst meat pies in London. Horribly disgusting things. I'd heard something recently about her shop doing better, but I hadn't had the bad taste to find out - and now I was glad I hadn't. From what I was reading, well.... it's a horrible thought, I can barely express it. Suffice it to say that the victims of Mr. Sweeney Todd were disposed of, but not through any sort of burial. How utterly revolting.
But I didn't understand what that had to do with my old friend, Ben. I kept reading obediently, and when the truth was laid bare before my eyes, I confess that those same eyes teared up, and my stomach clenched up. I pushed my plate away. Even the curried eggs could not tempt me, now, and I began to remember the boy that once I knew. Benjamin Barker. My Benjamin. Who would never hurt a fly.
We were both young lads, in our mid teens, when we met. He was a beautiful boy then, the photograph that I found in the paper - well, he changed he did, he really changed. He was very beautiful. And how I loved him.
There, I said it. Not ashamed of it, either. Nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all. We loved one another - purely, as men have done from time immemorial. I knew that he loved Lucy too, silly little chit that she was. But she was a pretty chit, and I couldn't fault him for his feelings. And it never affected us in any way. It was often the three of us, jaunting about London, almost like three musketeers. But often it was just me and Ben. And back then, I'm here to tell you, Benjamin Barker would never hurt a fly.
I didn't care what they said he did. It must be a mistake. A horrible mistake. Or else something dreadful happened to him. That was it, undoubtedly. My eyes returned to the article which I had painfully abandoned, and I continued to read, widening my understanding of the situation. Ah, that was it. He lost his wife and his daughter when he was transported to Australia. Humph, sounded like so much mullarkey to me. I'm sure there was some misunderstanding, if not downright chicanery on someone's part. I repeat - my Ben would never hurt a fly.
I remembered how happy he was when he and Lucy were wed. He opened his own shop - that man was a magician with a razor! He gave the closest shaves I've ever received. No one before or since him could come close to possessing the skills of Benjamin Barker. That he could fall so low as to use them to bring harm to anyone... well, it boggles my mind entirely.
When I left for India, we still kept in touch. He wrote to me when Lucy got pregnant, and when Joanna was born. Come to think of it, though, I do remember that he was troubled over something. He said there was a judge who had been harrassing him, through his beadle, bothering Lucy. Oh my word, I think that was the same judge that he was accused of murdering. Yes, that was him. Judge Turpin. That explained much.
My Ben was a gentle man. Only someone as heinous as Turpin could cause him to commit such a foul crime. He wrote to me in India, said he loved me, and when I returned, we would be together again. Oh, cruel fate, how sharp the wound, how bitter the taste.
I didn't care what anyone said - Benjamin Barker was a gentle man - and he was beautiful. I threw down the paper, and made my way to the library, where Holmes waited. I knew he'd be there for me, he'd make things better. He always did.
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no subject
Date: 2010-03-08 04:05 pm (UTC)The Judge was hot looking though... :)
*points at summery* I think you might have put the VD-summery with this story too.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 12:14 am (UTC)He was evil and hot lol
no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 12:41 pm (UTC)TOO hot... if that is even possible... ;)
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Date: 2010-03-09 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 12:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:36 pm (UTC)Oh snap!
Wait, Gary is my god, and he reigns supreme!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-08 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 12:23 am (UTC)I didn't expect this prompt to get claimed. I mostly submitted it because I'm a dork. lol!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 12:25 am (UTC)I'm a dork myself! lol
I've seen two versions of Sweeney, with George Hearn, and the new version with Johnny Depp - and I've heard the Len Cariou version too. I even have an autographed picture of Stephen Sondheim. Some day I'd like to see it live.
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Date: 2010-03-09 12:37 am (UTC)I had the opportunity to see it live, but it was only in town for one night and I had class! So bummed still!
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Date: 2010-03-09 12:42 am (UTC)The one time I had a chance, I didn't have the money for it, alas.
I saw Angela, and I saw Patti Lupone - I prefer Angela.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:06 am (UTC)Angela makes an amazing Ms. Lovitt.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:12 am (UTC)My secret fantasy is that someday I play Mrs. Lovett to Gary Oldman's Sweeney! :)
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Date: 2010-03-09 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:31 am (UTC)And I'd get to have him sing to me!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 01:34 am (UTC)